


By Any Other Name

by withtheworms



Series: Transmasc!Cross fics [1]
Category: Undertale
Genre: Coming Out, Deadnaming (sort of), Fear of Rejection, M/M, Unconditional Love and Support, barely canon-adjacent, i cannot stress enough this is just Feelings, infinitely patient and understanding Dream, soft, this is a SOFT fic, trans Cross, transitioning(????) it's magic, transmasc cross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withtheworms/pseuds/withtheworms
Summary: Cross and Dream are together (♥︎together♥︎) and it's Serious, but there's something Cross needs to get off his chest.aka: transmasc!Cross meandering for 2k because why not.  Why not.
Relationships: Cream - Relationship, Cross/Dream
Series: Transmasc!Cross fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129271
Comments: 17
Kudos: 166





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lot of rambling about this Cross is transmasc idea i've been rolling around on twitter. I cannot stress enough that this is 100% indulgent wish fulfillment where no one's feelings get hurt and they kiss at the end and canon is just a suggestion. it's just....,.... there's just something about a guy who picks a new name in his 30s, wears a lot of layers, falls in love with a twink god guardian of positivity, and lets himself get bullied mercilessly by a gang of murderers because it makes him "one of the guys" that has lit up every "he's trans" portion of my brain.
> 
> Some important notes:  
> \- I deliberately obscured how Cross IDs before he comes out as masc because idk if it's important to know if he was neutral or femme or something else entirely. Make of it what you will, i trust you completely.  
> \- Dream dead-names Cross up until he doesn't. It's not meant to be mean, Dream just didn't know. It doesn't take a genius to figure out Cross's dead-name, but i'm omitting it 'cause that's what i'd want and it's my fic.  
> \- Cross internally names and genders himself correctly 'cause he Knows What He's About.  
> \- Transitioning (for skeletons) isn't that hard, actually, it's just a lot of Societal Pressure that has held Cross back for a really long time. Is this... are you making a statement, Wormy? Are you speaking from some sort of deep-rooted, decades long personal experience??? i wonder....... if you're projecting.... slightly............
> 
> anyway, thank you for reading. pls enjoy my art.

Their room was all soft shadows and warm comfort. 

Laying together in their bed _(♥︎ their bed ♥︎)_ , Dream was a pleasant weight on Cross’s chest, his low purr a soothing sound in the twilight. Dream didn’t purr naturally- not like true skeletons did- but he’d adopted it during his time with Cross; a gentle yet obvious reminder of the growing influence Cross was having in his life. (The first time he’d done it, he’d looked bashful and apologized- Cross had found it weird, and felt like he was being made fun of. These days... Cross found it hard to settle down without it.) Dream’s warm familiarity as he lay next to him- his deep love and trust… they were all so easily given, and Cross received them so effortlessly, as though they’d been together for lifetimes.

It made Cross feel like he was being eaten up from the inside.

“Dream?”

Cross’s voice cracked embarrassingly, and Dream’s purring eased off as he stirred, yawning before he nuzzled more attentively into Cross’s chest.

“Yes, █ █ █ █ ?”

“Can I…” Cross felt his unease looming large and enormous, like a cresting wave that was about to pummel down onto shore. He knew he had to get these words out, he knew he couldn’t keep allowing things to continue the way they were, he knew it had to be now, or the burden of it was going to start eroding the foundation of their relationship. “Can I talk to you?”

The thing was: he loved Dream. He loved Dream so completely that sometimes it scared him. The way Dream had so unexpectedly fallen into his life, the ease with which they’d grown close, and the way they’d been able to shore one another up when they both truly needed it… No relationship in his life had ever felt as effortless and natural as this one. 

That’s why carrying this lie felt so bad. 

It wasn’t a lie, not really. Not in the traditional way that lies deliberately and deceptively disguised the truth. It was Cross’s, and it was personal, and choosing to keep it from Dream was valid, just as much as choosing to share it with him was. It was just...

_(He didn’t want Dream to be disappointed in him.)_

Dream shifted slightly, propping himself up on an elbow as he looked down at Cross. In the dim light his golden eyelights glowed. 

Dream was beautiful. 

Cross had never been beautiful. He’d never been light, and happy, and radiant the way Dream was. Growing up he’d been… rough. There had been words and phrases and jokes that had felt fine until the window of them being a compliment had suddenly and abruptly closed, and then the patience of humouring him had turned to an implication that the choices he was making were wrong, somehow. After that he’d struggled to be anything at all. There were expectations in weird ways that didn’t make sense to how he saw himself and the world, and when he reached out- when he _tried_ to hold on, it was with condescension that he was told ‘not this one.’ 

Physically it wasn’t complicated. Externally there was so little to show, anyway. Just bones and a nearly invisible network of magic. But internally… it was about how you were, how you _felt_ . And how he _felt_ was buried so deep under what he had been _told_ to feel. 

It had been fine, for a time. In the absence of the ability to decide for himself, he’d found roles that decided for him. Without the pressure of having to declare anything he fell easily under guard, soldier, victim, pawn, collateral... 

But then. Dream. 

Dream who had, without question, started asking Cross what he thought, how he felt, what he wanted, and then _listened_ to his answers. Dream, who respected the moments when Cross felt the world was too large and too loud. Dream, who had smiled so brightly the first time Cross had fumblingly taken hold of his hand, who looked at him like he meant something, even on his bad days.

Dream’s hand smoothed over his skull, his touch light and warm and radiating a positivity that Cross felt in his core. His arm came up to tighten around Dream’s body- so much smaller than his.

“What would you like to talk about, █ █ █ █ ?”

“Would you-” his words choked, and Cross had to clear his throat before he tried them again. “Would you like me if I was different?”

Dream’s smile was smooth and warm as he continued to pet Cross’s skull. 

“Different how?” he asked, his tone gentle and patient. “Like, if you were taller?”

He was trying to make things easier. Cross knew his emotions broadcast in a way Dream felt innately, picking them up like radio waves. He knew Dream could tell when he was feeling positive and happy, and he knew Dream could tell when his happiness dipped, as it currently most definitely was. It made sense that Dream, in his own way, was trying to ease some of his anxiety, and on some level Cross was touched by it.

“What if I was a different Me?”

Dream hummed softly, pressing a long, lingering kiss to his forehead as he considered the question. 

“You wouldn’t be You,” he answered at length, shifting himself so one leg was slid up to hook over Cross’s knee. “Unless you were still You somehow, I guess. Is this a riddle?”

Dream was so alien, sometimes. Ambivalent and patient about things in such a surreal, supportive way. Cross’s emotions always ran so hot and fast and _loud_... Dream’s pleasant calm was a remarkable balance; a whole alternative way of being. 

“No,” Cross could feel his blush creeping up as he looked away, his hand moving to catch hold of Dream’s where his palm lay flat against his chest. “It’s not a riddle. I’m being serious.”

“Okay,” Dream nodded. “Then I’m being serious, too. If you weren’t You, I’d have to meet the other You. But I think I’d still like you.” 

The weight on his soul was moving, sliding slowly from where it had sat central on Cross, keeping him pinned down for so long. 

“I think…” Cross took a breath, and hated how it shook through his whole body. He was so emotional- Dream loved that about him, saying that it made him so easy to read, but Cross felt that it held him back in situations like this where he _needed_ to be clear and not dissolve into the fragility of his feelings. “I need you to understand, it’s not that I’ve been _lying_ to you. I love you, Dream.”

There was something easing along the edge of Dream’s expression- an uncertainty Cross hadn’t seen in his eyelights before. His hand tightened on Cross’s, and he spoke with a calm that was becoming only slightly forced. 

“█ █ █ █ , what are you trying to say?”

“Can I show you something?”

Dream moved back as Cross sat up, keeping a distance that was respectful but still intimate. It was a process for Cross to coax out his soul, pulling it free from its webwork of uncertainty and trauma, but after a moment of steeling himself he managed to manifest it, holding it light and fluttering in his hands. 

It was a fine soul. It was the one he was familiar with displaying, but it wasn’t _right_... 

“I wasn’t trying to hide this from you,” Cross said as he held his soul out in such a way that invited Dream to look but made absolutely clear he should not touch. “Please don’t get mad.”

The shift wasn’t spectacular. Like pulling back a gauzy curtain to reveal something suddenly resolved and clear, his magic simply reoriented itself. The change was barely visible, but the _intent_ was heavy, and Cross could tell that Dream felt it immediately. 

“Oh, █ █ █ █ ...”

“If you hate it, I can go back.” The words were out of him quicker than he would’ve liked. _(Like an apology, like it was shameful.)_ “I know who you fell in love with. I know this is different. If this isn’t what you want…”

“█ █ █ █ ….” Cross hadn’t realized Dream’s hands were moving until his fingertips were delicately positioned under his cupped hands. Not invading, but gently, solidly supporting. “Is this the You that you were talking about?”

“Uh,” Cross wavered, feeling the magnitude of the confession he was about to make. “Yeah…” 

“Oh,” Dream’s eyes were glimmering in the way they always did before they over-spilled with tears, his soft joy and awe overwhelming. “You didn’t have to hide this from me...”

That was true, probably, but it wasn’t Dream’s call to make, and Dream seemed to realize it the moment the words left his mouth. Instead, he drew his knees under him, sitting in a crouch as he kept his hands cradled under Cross’s upturned palms. Cross’s soul was no different, really, not larger, not stronger. It was just…

( _Authentic._ ) 

“You feel amazing.” The words slipped out of Dream, clearly unbidden, and he blushed a scalding, overbright gold. “Is that weird to say?”

“I don’t think so,” Cross replied, feeling strangely, deeply flattered. “I want to be this," he continued after a breath. "I want the Me you know to be… Him.”

“Him…” Dream repeatedly softly, nodding as he pressed it effortlessly into his vocabulary.

The moment hung, and Cross felt prompted to finally mumble, “will this be okay, then?...”

“ _Yes,_ ” the word came out of Dream with such enthusiasm that it almost winded Cross, and he looked up to see the bright smile on Dream’s face as his eagerness spilled over. “What do I have to do? What words- Oh! Your name?”

“Cross.” It fell, heavy and sudden out of him. It was the first time Cross had heard it- had dared speak it out loud.

“Cross…” Dream repeated, shifting a hand and letting his touch gently trace the side of his face. “My Cross...”

Cross felt warm, as though the glow from Dream’s positive aura was strong enough to set him ablaze. Slowly, carefully, he tucked his soul back in his chest, protected once again by his lattice of ribs. It felt lighter. The weight of keeping it formed into something that was not himself had been pulling him down for decades, and had become impossible to bear as it became clear how deeply Dream was enmeshing in his life. Finally, finally ( _finally_ ) letting that burden go... it felt incredible.

“Can I kiss you?” Dream still looked watery, his emotions running high on the influence of Cross’s own joy. “I don’t know… if that's alright? If that’s changed…”

Cross’s hand was warm as he rested it against the side of Dream’s face, leaning forward as he cautiously eased into Dream’s personal space.

“You can still kiss me. Nothing has changed. We’re still the same we, just… different Me.”

“A better you.”

Dream’s kiss was overwhelming with how much of his joy he was projecting out into the world. It made Cross feel light-headed, and he folded into it easily.

“I love you, Dream.”

Dream was aware of the weight of his next words, his eyelights attentive but hazy as he whispered, sweet and soft and adoring. “I love you, Cross.”


End file.
